Bittersweet Symphony
by Gumi Reloaded
Summary: Soujirou unexpectedly and inexplicably invites Tsubame out for breakfast. But will their opposing personalities strike a cord or strike a nerve?


Date: February 6th  
Time: 8 am  
Place: In front of Tsubame's house  
Characters: Soujirou, Tsubame

**Soujirou**  
Ugh. Why did Sanjou have to live here of all places? The cracked sidewalks. The apartments stacked on top of one another like breadboxes, filled with miscreants and insects and mice. At least all the windows were whole, though there was some pretentious graffiti on the wall just opposite. Respect the AMP. God he would like to shove the AMP's head through a window. Soujirou stepped out of the jaguar, sliding his hand along the still warm hood as he checked for signs of grime from the oppressive air of the place. He let his hand slip off the car and took out his phone, accessing the mirror app, straightening his bangs. The air was too dry here. Too cold. His skin was already starting to crack from the pure hopelessness of the place. The sooner he got out of here the better. But where was she? Soujirou scanned the windows. They had class in forty-five minutes. Why was she late? Why was everyone always late?

He would have to call her. How plebeian. Though it would be the only way to get her down here in any time so they would actually be able to _have_ breakfast before class started. Before that, though, he took his pocket moisturizer out, and rolled it over the area until the flakey skin disappeared and his cheek was smooth and perfect.

"Sanjou Tsubame," he said.

"Searching." the phone said. "Dialing."

He pressed the button for the speaker phone and looked up at her studio apartment, wondering what the hell was taking her so long.

**Tsubame**

There was something to be said for diligence in doing one's laundry. Tsubame wasn't sure what she'd been thinking the night before when she decided that a trip to the laundromat hadn't been necessary. Now she stood, wrapped in a towel, staring down at the pile of clothes on the floor. In her bureau was a holey t-shirt, a couple pair of shorts that were entirely out of season, and a pair of pajama pants.

With a sigh, she leaned down to dig through the heaped clothes, searching for a long-sleeved shirt that still smelled fairly clean. After a few failures and several worried looks at the clock ticking away over the small fridge, Tsubame let out a triumphant "Ha!" when she found a shirt that still smelled...pretty good. Dropping her towel and tugging it on, she then went for the clean pajama pants. They were light blue with little yellow ducks, but her shirt was black, and black went with everything.

The cell rang when Tsubame was foaming at the mouth. Spitting out the toothpaste, and rinsing hastily, she practically dove out of the bathroom for the phone she'd left on her bed. Not even looking at the number, not that she would have recognized it, she answered with a breathless, "Hello?"

**Soujirou**

"Finally, I was wondering what took you so long," Soujirou said, long since bored standing there he locked the car and started toward the building, cringing for a moment at the door. Ugh. Disgusting. Who knew how many had touched it. He shuddered and pushed it open with the lightest touch he could manage and then he had dirty fingers. Creeping under his nails. Tainting his skin.

"This is Seta. I'm coming up. I need to use your sink." He briefly debated on the elevator or the stairs, thought of more buttons that would need to be pressed and started up the stairs, jogging upward two at a time.

"Are you dressed? I've reserved a table for two at Golden Week and they don't keep tables long even if you do pay the bastards under the table."

**Tsubame**

"Seta...-san?" Why was he calling? "Why-?" Cutting herself before she even finished the question, Tsubame moved to the window, looking out to see if he was there down on the street. No one. Then the rest of what he'd said filtered through her mind.

"It's, uh, apartment 4-B, if you're coming up..." She trailed off, trying to figure out where he'd come from and why her TA wanted to have breakfast. Wait. Breakfast? She wasn't even going to touch the part about paying under the table. More than she wanted to know.

Well, if he was coming up, she might as well help. Still holding the phone to her ear, she opened her apartment door and listened for feet on the stairs, the groan of the elevator. It was right across from her room, and scared her half to death the first time it rumbled up. A death trap for certain. She always took the stairs. Sure enough, she heard the steady cadence of feet, and was surprised that he actually was in her building. Seta-san was an odd one; she'd half expected it to be some kind of mind...something. This was too confusing.

"Uh, you really didn't need to do that, Seta-san. Breakfast, I mean. I have cereal here," she finished lamely as she waited by the open door.

**Soujirou**

She was muttering something but it didn't matter. He could hear her voice from the stairs. He reached the landing and looked her up and down. Pajamas. Good lord would that fashion never die? Her hair wasn't even combed. One would think that if she only had forty-five minutes until class she would at least try to look halfway presentable.

"It's my pleasure," Soujirou said mildly, walking past her into the...apart..ment? He stopped in shock and it surprised a laugh out of him. Who knew it would?

"God, Sanjou, my bathroom is bigger than this." And cleaner. Much cleaner. How could she even live like this? Weren't girls supposed to be neat? Ugh, never mind, never mind. He jammed his phone into his pocket and went to her bathroom, holding his hands under the tap until he realized they weren't even heat sensitive. Ugh. He never wanted to be poor.

He turned the taps with his wrists and washed his hands thoroughly, before flicking them off not wanting to touch her towels.

"Any way, we have about ten minutes so if you want to rush off and get dressed I'll wait for you. I'm sure I can entertain myself." ...Somehow.

**Tsubame**

Tsubame stood awkwardly, eyeing her visitor as he looked her up and down. Going out for breakfast was hardly a reason for him to be here. She barely knew him! Still holding her phone, Tsubame stepped back out of the doorway as Seta-san swept in. And stared at him a little incredulously when he laughed.

Her place wasn't that bad! Well, maybe it was that bad, but still. It was hers. And he was being rude. "It's just me, so this is fine." She watched him head straight for the bathroom, and listened as the water ran, noting that he certainly knew how to make himself at home, however tiny or distasteful that home might be.

She was still standing in the same spot when he reemerged, suggesting she get dressed. "I _am_ dressed." It came out a bit testily.

Sense began to kick in, and irritation with her guest helped Tsubame get some of her equilibrium back. She could feel a curl of anger smouldering deep inside, but squashed it down until there was just curiosity. Breakfast was a pleasant surprise, but the package that it arrived in? Left something to be desired. Meeting his eyes, Tsubame asked, "Seta-san, why are you here? How did you know where I lived? And...why breakfast? It would have...been nice to know about it before...right now."

**Soujirou**

Questions. Questions. Always the questions. Why did people ask so many? Couldn't they read? Couldn't they search? And, in finding none, couldn't they just accept the unexpected in life? Did they continually have to ask boring insipid questions which were pointless to answer and did nothing but stall the inevitable.

"Sorry I was under the impression that you had actual clothes," Soujirou said, then realizing that sounded a bit snide and she was the only one in the class that didn't drive him up the wall and assuredly would just to spite him, adjusted his tone.

"I thought we could study for the test this Thursday." Not that he needed to. "And I thought I would surprise you. Aren't surprises better? Surprise." He waved his hands in dry sarcasm. God. It was so hard to be nice. Why did people even want to do it.

"So, will you come with me to a fancy restaurant with real food or would you rather stay here?" He couldn't imagine why she would but people were really damned weird like that.

**Tsubame**

Ouch. Tsubame fliched slightly at the snide comment. "I...haven't had time to do laundry. This was better than..." She gestured to the pile of laundry on the floor, deciding he didn't need to know her shirt wasn't exactly clean. "Besides, it wasn't like I knew to expect you."

That little flame of anger was growing again. She could see why so many of her classmates complained so bitterly about Seta-san. Tsubame knew he was difficult to deal with, but had always wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. This, however...

She was on the verge of asking him to leave when the answers to her questions finally came. And she decided that had to have been either the most rude or the most creative way to ask another person to study. "Well, it certainly was a surprise..." She trailed off, half angry with his presumptuousness and half amused by his sarcastic hand-waving. Maybe he was just socially awkward. Painfully, terribly socially awkward.

She watched him a moment after his last question, deciding what to do. She really didn't mind going out or studying or a fancy breakfast. Tsubame was never one to turn down good food. It was just the way the whole thing was delivered. But even with that, maybe he just needed a friend. "Real food sounds...really good. But-"

A fancy restaurant. Tsubame glanced down at her ducky pjs, then looked back up at her guest. "I really don't have anything else to wear. If they don't have a dress code, it's fine with me. But, next time, could you let me know first? Then I can make sure to have 'actual clothes.'" Her smile was kind, even if she was being mildly sarcastic. That actual clothes comment stung. A girl has _some_ pride!

**Soujirou**

Seriously? _Seriously?_ There was no way he was going to take her anywhere looking like that. Onnn the other hand, wouldn't it be amusing to show up as if they'd just stepped out of a dryer? And Soujirou had paid under the table for a prime seat and if he were to reveal that to the right parties, someone could lose their job.

Yes. This would be amazing. This would be the best breakfast he'd ever had. He could see it now. He gave Sanjou a broad grin.

"Sounds good. I'll be certain to let you know in triplicate next time," Soujirou said, checking his hair in the mirror before pulling on his sunglasses. "Grab your books and let's go."

He left the way he had come in, jogging down the stairs two at a time and humming under his breath. Yes, this was going to be a fantastic breakfast indeed.

**Tsubame**

The change in his demeanor made Tsubame nervous. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, and could only hope it didn't include humiliating her. He was a difficult person to figure out, and she had no idea what that grin meant. At least he seemed pretty excited now that she'd decided to just roll with it.

Tsubame nodded, smiling and hoping she wasn't making a mistake. "I am completely holding you to that, Seta-san. Triplicate. Please."

She nearly rolled her eyes as she watched him check his hair, then realized she'd never brushed her own. "Ah, just a second," she said as she darted into the bathroom and reached for her brush. Moments later she emerged, ready as she'd ever be.

Her bag was by the door, and she picked it up and followed him out, locking the door behind them. If nothing else, she was getting fed this morning, and that wasn't too bad at all. Jogging after him she puffed out, "Thanks. For the surprise."

**Soujirou**

"Surprise?" Soujirou said, looking over his shoulder. Then remembered. "Oh yes. Surprise. Isn't it wonderful." Then there was the door. He didn't want to touch the door. He had just touched it. It was disgusting. Why did they even allow doors like that to get so bad? Didn't they have any sense of personal pride?

Well whatever the case, Soujirou certainly wasn't going to touch it again. Would Sanjou open it for him if he asked? Probably not. She was just in that socio-economic bracket that she wouldn't think she had to be nice to him even if he could buy her little family twice over and make them their own personal ant farm to live inside. It was at the same time exciting and such a pain in the ass.

Still, other methods could be used. Soujirou slowed down just enough to be walking a little behind her and waited for her to open the door, resisting the urge to brush past her because she might take "offense" to someone who didn't want to touch her damn germy door, and twisting out of the way as it closed. His car was still in one shape though there were people eyeing it.

Soujirou ignored them and unlocked the doors, sliding into the maroon darkness, an extension of his world, a piece of his soul. The engine turned over, smooth as kitten fur and the low, smooth but surprisingly somewhat obnoxious tones of Miles Davis' So What? rolled like a distant summer thunderstorm through the car.

He closed his eyes briefly and experienced it for just a moment, a snatch of time, as the music hugged his skin. Better than good wine.

**Tsubame**

To have been so anxious to leave, it was a little confusing when Tsubame caught up to and then overtook Seta-san on the staircase. She slowed her pace and stepped off the last riser and into the foyer a moment before he did and reached for the door. It swung inward in a slow, heavy arc and Tsubame gave it an extra push to make sure it stayed open for Seta-san, too. It wouldn't do to hit him in the face with the door!

She tugged her jacket closer to her body in the chill morning air, wishing once again that she'd had a clean pair of jeans. Tsubame waited on the steps outside the building for Seta-san to lead the way. Had he driven, or walked? There were several cars parked on the street, but in this neighborhood, it was hard to match a car to its owner. Everyone had different priorities, and it depended on what kind of business they conducted.

Trailing after her companion, Tsubame's eyes widened when she saw what he'd been driving. "Wow," she said quietly as she slipped into the passenger seat. Jazz filled the cabin, but Tsubame knew neither the song's name nor the artist. She liked it, though. Glancing at Seta-san, she was getting ready to ask about the song, but stopped when she saw the serenity on his face. It definitely wasn't something she'd seen there before, not that she even pretended to know her classmate and TA well.

After what she hoped was a respectful moment, she asked softly, "Who's playing? I'm not...very familiar with jazz."

**Soujirou**

"Mm," Soujirou said as Sanjou's voice filled the air. He wasn't surprised she didn't know jazz. He was mildly intrigued, though, that she at least seemed to appreciate it. It didn't seem possible for one who likely overindulged in sugar pop and boy-bands.

"It's Miles Davis, an American from the 1950s. He's a little obnoxious but I think that's why I like him." The music scene could use a little more in-your-face social commentary, or even something from the heart, rather than the ballads that cringed their way into his raido when he got desperate for something new. It was so much sentimental garbage. All love songs with no meaning. Breakup songs with no sadness. Just catchy tunes that anyone could pick up and rot their teeth with.

Soujirou pulled from the curb and slid onto the road. The music curled through him, the car ran like liquid under his fingers, warm air like a breath ghosting over his neck. The sun dazzled itself everywhere, peeking through low swollen clouds to shine on the hood and reflect in glass windows. It was such a beautiful day he could almost forget he had a bag lady in the passenger seat.

"Do you like music, Sanjou-san?" he said, wondering what sort of tasteless nonsense she listened to. He didn't expect her to be interesting but deriding her, even in his head, should be at least somewhat entertaining.

**Tsubame**

Between the heater and the sunshine filtering through the windshield, Tsubame shuddered as warmth flowed through her. It felt so good, she almost didn't hear Seta-san's answer. She nodded, not recognizing the name, but filing it away to hunt up on the internet later. "Obnoxious? How so?" The music was a little repetitive, but in a good way, as far as she was concerned. Hypnotic. It satisfied something she hadn't realized was lacking.

Tsubame had relaxed into the comfortable seat as the buildings slid by. She woke up from her daze of warmth and Mr. Davis and looked over at Seta-san as he spoke, tension tightening her shoulders slightly. "Um, well, I usually just listen to whatever is on the radio. I wish I knew more about music like this," she said as she gestured toward the car's sound system.

Tsubame fell silent, debating whether to share the rest of her musical tastes. More often than not, it ended up being a little embarrassing. She wasn't sure what to make of her TA, and didn't want him to think her pretentious. But if he liked jazz already, maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe he was open to lots of different types of music. "I...um, also really like classical music. It feels like," she paused, searching for the right word, "home."

With a helpless shrug, she laughed uneasily, adding, "I guess that's pretty silly, huh?" There was just something about a koto or shamisen that felt right. The music replaced pieces of herself that she always felt were missing. It was hard to describe, and whenever she'd tried, people usually either laughed it off or looked at her like she was very odd. She wasn't sure why she was sharing now, and had a nasty feeling she was just setting herself up for an even more uncomfortable meal than what she was already anticipating. On the other hand, Seta-san was such a mystery, maybe this kind of conversation would help her figure him out. Who knew?

"Um, what types of music to you like? Besides Miles Davis," she added with a smile.

**Soujirou**

"Like home?" the words struck him oddly. "What does that even mean, Sanjou?" He frowned. If her papers were anything to go by, she was one of those foolishly sincere people who wore their hearts for most of the world to see. And yet, for music to feel like home... It didn't make any sense even given he knew nothing of her home life, other that she certainly had no one formally trained in any kind of classical music-otherwise how could she not know any jazz?

"You have to say what you mean. Be precise. Don't just throw off pithy sayings without explaining what's behind them. That's tedious and you don't do it well." It felt almost as if she was hiding something and he wanted to dig it out of the mud to see if it held the muted gleam of a pearl or the harsh empty realism of plastic

**Tsubame**

Be precise.

It's tedious.

You don't do it well.

Tsubame nearly flinched. God, she was stupid. Why had she thought Seta-san would get it? She knew exactly how he was, watching him in class. She knew how he picked things apart. How he seemed to enjoy making people squirm. Stupid. That's what she was.

But, she'd already stepped in it, so there was no turning back. Tsubame regarded his profile steadily, trying to find her words. Finally, she said firmly, "I don't know."

"I don't...know. It just is. I don't feel it with Western classical. It's only when I listen to our traditional music. I get the feeling like I could have listened to it a long time ago, like back when that was the only music to find. Before cds or record players. There's no logical explanation for it that I've ever figured out, and that's as precise as I can get. Feel free to laugh. I know it's stupid." She looked out the window, hoping she'd turned her head enough to hide her red face. Mortified. That about covered it.

**Soujirou**

So a sense of nostalgia. A longing for the past. Interesting. Dynamic, even. Such a strange sense for a girl like Sanjou. He sighed as she told him to feel free to laugh. He always felt free to laugh if he found something ridiculous. Not well explained was hardly the same thing. Why couldn't people get it? Why were they always so simple? Words had power. _Silence_ had power.

"Don't be so spineless, if you enjoy something, stand up for it. Why should you care what other people think?" Which she certainly didn't, going on what she decided was appropriate to wear outside. He merged into heavy traffic, and waited until he was sure he wouldn't end up killing them both before flicking through his music to reach Zoltán Kodály's cello solo sonata. Again as irritating as it was beautiful.

"Davis is obnoxious because saxophones always are. Trumpets, too. Its in their nature." And you can't change your nature, even if you wanted to.

"I enjoy all kinds of music, though. Even some Sugar Pop, though only when it's genuinely cute and not put out there for mass consumption. I've never seen so many tackily dressed, dead-eyed girls in my life. But I enjoy Rainbow Bridge, they were popular a few years ago- and then everyone started wearing sequins and I loathed them for starting that."

A red Mercedes jerked in front of them and Soujirou jolted the breaks to keep from smashing into them. A loud blaring honk from behind startled him and he caged his fingers over the wheel.

"Wow, sons-of-bitches cannot drive these days," he said cheerfully.

**Tsubame**

Tsubame blinked at her own reflection in the glass and turned back to look at Seta-san, uttering a quiet, thoughtful, "Huh." That...wasn't what she'd expected. At all.

Seta-san made her tired. It was like chasing a lightning bug on a summer evening. Following the erratic pattern that only the insect knew, losing sight of it when the light went out, only to spot it again, in an entirely new place when it lit back up...provided it was the same lightning bug. He had a point, though. So her tastes were a little odd; it really wasn't anything to get so upset over. At least he'd given her something to think about.

The music changed, and Tsubame found herself wishing Seta-san had stuck with Mr. Davis, or another jazz piece. She was curious about jazz, now. The cello piece wasn't doing as much for her. It was lovely, but didn't touch her the way the jazz piece had.

"Mm. I guess those kinds of instruments do stand out. But in the song, they made a nice punctuation."

She continued to listen to the cello piece, trying to figure out why it didn't touch her. As Seta-san spoke, she finally decided it was because the cello piece felt very refined, and removed. Distant. It was beautiful, yes, and she didn't mind listening to it, but it didn't have the visceral quality of the jazz piece. At least, not to her. She wondered how Seta-san felt about it as he talked about Sugar Pop. Some of that was fun, too. She just nodded, not recognizing Rainbow Bridge. Had they been popular? She didn't know.

"Rainbow Bridge doesn't sound too familiar, but I do recall an awful lot of sequins in the last few years-"

There might have been more, but Tsubame stopped abruptly, grabbing the door's handle when the red Mercedes swooped into their lane. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut as their car jerked with the sudden application of brakes.

_"Wow, sons-of-bitches cannot drive these days."_

"Uh-huh." It came out a little shaky. "You have really good reflexes, Seta-san." _Thank you for not letting us get killed._

**Soujirou**

Yes. He had great reflexes. It was a pity he was only using them to get to places _alive_ because assholes didn't know how to drive these days. He smiled at the back of the Mercedes. Wanting to- To let them know how upset he was. To make them- to make them regret it. For making him have these feelings. This fear. He didn't like it. Not one bit. Soujirou memorized the license plate for later and said nothing as he tried to put the splintering pieces of his nerves back together.

"I'm almost impressed you haven't heard of them," Soujirou said, annoyed that his voice was tighter than usual. Why did he have to sound it, too? Why was it that... Where was the calm? He used to be calm about these kinds of things. Oh well. Revenge would come. He smiled. They would really regret it.

"You must have had your head buried so far in the sand you were underwater." The cello plucked at him. Annoyed him and he changed it again, and a third time, winding through his songs as he looked for something he could tolerate before - before- well just something tolerable.

"So what is it you want to do with your life, Sanjou-san? Why go to this pathetic little school to begin with?" Not that he really cared but he needed distractions. Something. Anything. Even listening to her ramble on about her pathetic little life.

**Tsubame**

Tsubame noted the tightness in his voice, but wasn't surprised. That had been scary! She would have been more surprised if he'd just brushed it off. Good to know he was human somewhere underneath the sharp edges and twisting barbs. But the smile...was a little creepy. Tsubame turned her attention back out the passenger window as she slowly uncurled her fingers from their death-grip on the door handle.

Speaking of barbs... So far into the sand she almost reached water. That was pretty good. Using the advice he had just given her, she simply shrugged and looked back at Seta-san with a crooked grin. "I suppose so. We've already established I listen to different stuff."

The music changed again, and Tsubame waited, curious to see what he would choose. She was a little fascinated by his music collection, and found herself anticipating what he'd choose next.

Her attention had wandered again, the sun's warmth and the soft purr of the engine lulling her on such an odd morning. His next question, once again, set her on alert. Couldn't they just ride in uncomfortable silence and enjoy the gift of sunshine on a February morning?

"It's not pathetic." The statement popped out without thought, and Tsubame backpedaled a bit, unused to snapping at people. He really did set her nerves on edge. "I don't think so, at least. It's good enough. They offered me a scholarship, so any place where I don't have to pay will do. You're brilliant, Seta-san, why do you go here?" There was no sarcasm lacing her voice. Just curiosity. If he found it so pathetic, certainly he had his pick of institutions. It was no secret he was very, very smart. Most places would be falling all over themselves to have him.

"As for my life, I- I don't really know. History is interesting; I'd like to do something that deals in the past. I just haven't figured out what yet," she said with a soft laugh. "Do you have plans, Seta-san?"

**Soujirou**

Sanjou snapping at him startled a laugh out of him. High and sharp. God, what was that? Her questions were almost like an insult, even though her voice was quiet. History because she was interested in it. How boring. What interested her? What drew her? Did she just like reading about it? If so, why go to the trouble? And then the other question. Did he have plans?

Did he?

Why was there nothing he wanted to listen to? Nothing worth listening to? Finally he found the instrumental version of Winter Sky, and let the soothing words fill his head as the piano played softly in the background of the piece. That's what he needed. Something soothing. Something nice. After the bright hot electric fear that put the taste of bl...blood in his mouth. He absently combed his fingers through his bangs.

"Being poor must be such a burden," he said distantly. "I came here because I- I don't...I don't know I wanted to. It's boring. Anywhere is boring. At least it's not pretentious. The other schools had a nasty habit of kicking me out and I don't like that, not at all." He smiled.

"I was just pointing out the massive flaws in their systems-how _easy_ it is to cheat. And if the vice-principal decided to sleep with a student, he should have been more careful than to do it somewhere where there were security tapes." That had been nice. He'd laughed about that for at least a week before it got tiresome.

"I want to be _engaged_ in life, Sanjou-san. I don't have to work. I don't have to do anything but play but that's so _boring_. Everyone is such a blinding idiot that no one can be _interesting_. Do you know how frustrating that is?" He glanced at her and smiled sharply. "No, I suppose not."

**Tsubame**

The music changed once again, and Tsubame couldn't help but relax a little more deeply into the passenger seat. This was nice. Calm. It was the kind of music to lull someone to sleep. It was also very much a contrast to the person sitting next to her.

She listened as he spoke. How he went on about being bored and...and...well, she wasn't sure if he had been at the wrong place at the right time, or the right place at the wrong time, but the satisfaction in his voice made her gut twist uncomfortably.

He continued, and Tsubame listened, her spirits plummeting. How could a person like this ever be happy? Did he even know what contentment was? Did he ever look at something or talk to someone or sit and stare at the wall and find some sort of pleasure in the simple act of looking, connecting, being?

_"Everyone is such a blinding idiot that no one can be interesting. Do you know how frustrating that is?"_

At the final barb, that sharp smile, Tsubame nearly rolled her eyes. She knew he was difficult, and back in her apartment had wondered if maybe he just needed a decent friend or five. But actually taking the time to talk with him was cementing the conviction that Seta-san was just a jerk. He probably had very good reasons for being a jerk, but he was still difficult and needlessly cruel. And then to complain about being frustrated because he couldn't find anyone interesting? Had he even bothered to look? There were plenty of interesting things and people in the world. He just- He just wasn't looking properly, or wasn't looking in the right places. Or something.

"No," she said quietly, "I don't suppose I do."

She fell silent, and listened to the music as it filled the car. It really was nice. For the first time this morning, she truly questioned why she'd agreed to go to breakfast with Seta-san. Was it the unexpectedness, the possibility of a small adventure? That was probably part of it, but she also had wanted to get to know him better. Unfortunately, she mused, getting to know someone better was a double edged sword. Sometimes, that person was just a jerk.

"Does anything make you happy?" A sad, quiet question, and she meant it. Aside from the feeling of mild disgust she was feeling for her TA, he also made her sad. Like his life was some vast, empty wasteland. Maybe that wasn't true. Maybe he did find joy in something other than mocking and hurting people with his words.

**Soujirou**

No, he didn't think she did. She was the kind of mindless sheep that could be content with anything. That never wanted something more. That just bleated and ate and waited to be slaughtered. The mental image made his stomach twist and he tried to press it out of his mind, focusing on the road, the rising city, grey tinged clouds.

"_Does anything make you happy?_"

Soujirou tightened his grip over the the steering wheel until he felt as if his fingers would break. Of course it didn't. That much was obvious. Couldn't she tell? Was she really so _dense_? Of course she was. Sheep always were. But it was the tone. The sad tone. As if she was shaking her head at him.

It...

It was actually kind of funny.

Really funny. Right?

He smiled.

"Wow. You should save that pity for yourself, Sanjou-san," he said with a slight laugh. "And please refrain from watching so many after school specials, I'm sure they're rotting your brain. Next you'll tell me: 'believe in yourself' and 'all you need is love'."

He shook his head.

Funny.

So goddamn _funny_.

He made a right off the freeway instead of a left and could feel sweat start to slide down the back of his neck. Ugh. How disgusting. If only he could replace his skin with something that didn't sweat. If only he could be crystal all the way down, reflecting and refracting, beautiful but inscrutable.

He snatched his ipod up again and started to shuffle through songs, before yanking it out and throwing it in the back seat. He didn't need music. He didn't need anything.

**Tsubame**

Tsubame did flinch, this time. Not so much from the words, but the ipod flying into the backseat. Abrupt, and angry. Silence filled the space, and she just wanted out of the car. But on the freeway, that wasn't really an option.

"No, that's not what I-" She stopped, not knowing how to finish it. It was exactly what she'd meant, and she did pity him, anyone who was so caught up in being special, in being different, that they didn't give anyone a chance. She didn't understand him; he made her uncomfortable. But he was interesting, too. The little they had discussed about music, that was interesting, and she knew there was more to him than what she was currently experiencing. Was it enough? That, she didn't know.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That was-" Judgmental. Patronizing? Assuming too much? She didn't know. "That wasn't something I should have asked."

They took an exit, and Tsubame realized they were heading toward school. That was probably for the best, but it still made her heart heavy. This had been unexpected, and maybe would have even been kind of fun. But, she'd ruined it. It was tempting to blame Seta-san, but it certainly hadn't been all him. "If you don't have class now, Seta-san, you can just let me out at the nearest stoplight. It'll save a little extra fuel for you." She didn't want him to have to drive her if he didn't need to. Surely he had other things to do, rather than haul her around.

**Soujirou**

That annoyed him. She annoyed him. All the more so because she was sincere. Every uncomfortable situation needed to be avoided. For them both. For them both. Maybe moreso for him since...since he couldn't even _face _what really existed. Which was why everything was hollow. Which was why nothing mattered.

Or maybe she was being honest, which was even worse. That she really did want to 'save him money'. He refused to believe she was just being a martyr-she'd always seemed more hesitantly honest than that, even if she was just a sheep.

"It would take you an hour to get to school," he said when he could finally speak again. "Unless you took the bus, which are infested with germs." And not all of them the human kind. He felt fairly revolted at the thought of it. He could at least spare her that. Making her go through it would be almost inhuman.

"And stop apologizing for everything you say." Because that was the worst of all.

**Tsubame**

"Oh." She didn't know it would take that long to walk. The school was listed on the exit sign and she had just figured it wasn't that far. Not having a car distorted her sense of distance.

The bus was an option, but Seta-san certainly didn't seem to think that. Germs didn't really bother her one way or another. They were everywhere, after all. Given where she now lived, Tsubame figured she'd either build up resistance or she would have died months ago from some dread disease. Regardless, she decided not to push the bus option.

"Thank you, then. For the ride."

_"And stop apologizing for everything you say."_

Tsubame huffed out a short, quiet breath of laughter at that. A snort almost. He was right. She did apologize a lot. Especially to him. Mostly because it felt like she'd never get anything right with him. He really was a difficult person. But, at least that made him very interesting. In an unnerving manner that made Tsubame feel like she was stomping across thin ice in a pair of cleats.

"Yeah." She fell silent, then, having nothing else to say to that. No need to elaborate on such a simple truth.

**Soujirou**

The remaining part of the drive was silent, nothing but the hum of tires against the road, the soft quiet rush of the heater. He felt more like himself in that stillness. Boredom settled back in like an old annoying friend, burying itself under his skin like acid. She was boring but so was everyone after a certain length of time. There was no one worth getting to know.

He pulled up to the school building. A place with sufficiently high academics but looked like it was a hundred years too old for itself. He hated every damn brick of it. Soujirou pulled up to one of the least expensive cafeterias, figuring Sanjou-san would want to have something.

"You know, you're the kind of person who can be easily bullied," Soujirou said, as he put the car into park and stared at the ugly greasy restaurant. "But don't let anyone change you."

**Tsubame**

Tsubame took advantage of the silence and spent the rest of the trip watching the world pass by the window. Soon the school came into view, and so did the dining hall. The one she liked best because it was the cheapest. It also seemed to be designed better than the others. Or maybe she just fancied herself lucky that she almost always found a table near a window.

She was sure it wasn't a coincidence that Seta-san had chosen this particular spot to drop her off, but decided not to mention her gratitude. She was, however, grateful for the thoughtfulness. It was definitely time to eat.

Her hand was on the door handle, and she was just about to thank him for the ride when he spoke. Blinking at the comment, she had to stop for moment and try to decide if it was an insult or an exceptionally backward compliment.

Maybe it was a mistake, but Tsubame always wanted to see the best in everyone. She had to look hard when it came to Seta-san, with his double-edged speech. And that's what that comment was, wasn't it? Both an insult and a compliment, and again, as true as it could be through the crazy lens that she didn't understand with which he viewed the world.

A lopsided, rueful smile curved her lips. "Thanks. I think." Then her smile grew as she opened the door, grabbed her bag and stepped out. "Thank you, Seta-san, for the ride."

She closed the door, not really wanting to hear if he had an answer and hurried up the path to the dining hall.

**Soujirou**

Soujirou watched her walk away, until he couldn't. How could she even go out in public looking like that? What was wrong with her? He shook his head, faintly glad that they hadn't made it and then even more annoyed. What was he expecting really? How could she be entertaining? She was only marginally intelligent and seeing her at Golden Week would have only been funny for a minute until all those snobs started looking at them with their piercing eyes, judging them, saying, isn't that the youngest Seta. What in the world does he think he's doing?

Bastards. He could do whatever he wanted. He was rich. He was beautiful. He wasn't happy but was she in her run down roach infested apartment? Eating greasy food? Probably barely even able to afford this pathetic little school. And someone would change her. Someone would warp her around their little finger until she was just a timid apologizing little thing.

It was so _disgusting_. Soujirou pulled the hand sanitizer from the glove compartment and doused them with the cool stuff until he felt better. Until the world shifted on the right axis. His hands felt stiff and cracked so he gently slipped on lotion until they were pale and smooth again. Until he was pale and smooth and perfect again.

Then he called up his secretary and had him cancel the reservations at Golden Week, listening to the man's deep sigh. That done he threw the phone in the backseat, the car into drive and pulled back onto the road.

He wouldn't go to school today, he decided. Didn't want to see that face. Those idiotic people. He would just drive until the world ended or he ran out of gas. Whichever came first.


End file.
